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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24629089">we can see the flipside</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxmayfield/pseuds/maxmayfield'>maxmayfield</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Allusions to Runaway Max, Angst, Arcades, Babysitting, Developing Friendships, Dinner, Fluff, Friendship, Gaming, Gen, Good Friend Lucas Sinclair, Grief/Mourning, Homework, Lucas is in this a lot! Being pragmatic and looking out for his sad friends, Madwheeler friendship with underlying Mileven and Lumax, Maxine "Max" Mayfield &amp; Mike Wheeler Friendship, Mike Wheeler Loves Eleven | Jane Hopper, Sad Mike Wheeler, Some Humor, in a way that's new for him and very bleak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:33:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,906</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24629089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxmayfield/pseuds/maxmayfield</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Strange things happen in El’s absence: life goes on, and Mike realises that Max Mayfield is his best chance at keeping up with it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Maxine "Max" Mayfield &amp; Mike Wheeler, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>we can see the flipside</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They’d been neglecting the arcade over the summer. The excitement of the new mall had claimed all attention, relegated all the usual hideouts invisible in a way that Mike had once appreciated, once shrouded himself in.</p>
<p>Now, in the chill of autumn, when everything feels over and empty, he regards the arcade as if it’s not real. Mike stands in shoes that are too small for him and caked in dust from his abrupt walk. He stares at the dark windows and wonders why this is the place that his walk carried him. </p>
<p>Vague reasons occur to him, memories of rushing inside the orange doors as a kid. Before he was twelve, it was thoughtless joy, time with his friends. After, he brought along smothered agony, tried to fixate on the pixelated adventures until El’s memory subdued. It was a victory if distraction lasted for even a moment. </p>
<p>Not a pristinely happy place, then. Nor safe, considering the day that Mike had watched Will lured outside by nothingness, his movements deliberate and his features frozen, not quite his own.</p>
<p>But somehow Mike is here. The sight of the arcade is surreal, a stranger’s hobby, and at the same time so familiar he’s tilted towards it, itching to tread on graphic carpets. He can see the games from where he stands, the gleaming screens in the large boxes, all of the electric colours. </p>
<p>Checking his pockets, Mike finds coins worth a game or two, and decides to go inside. He wonders if Keith will make a comment on his previous absence. Maybe he has missed the party, carried a fondness for them, despite all the hell he had given them. It wouldn’t be Mike’s first time experiencing such a phenomenon. </p>
<p>But Keith isn’t there, of course, because he’s working at the same video rental store as Steve and Robin. The employee who greets Mike dons glasses and freckles, a nerd cliche if he ever saw one, and is so earnest that it is completely off-putting.</p>
<p>Once, Mike might have picked up on the enthusiasm, but he’s all cynicism these days. Happiness is reserved for letters and phone calls from El, spending time with Lucas and Dustin, the habit he’s picked up of colouring with Holly. Conjuring it elsewhere seems way out of his depth.</p>
<p>For all his weariness, Mike scours internally to justify a sudden need to leave, when the friendly lunatic is cut off by another voice. A voice that is loud and obnoxious and utterly familiar.</p>
<p>Max Mayfield is striding towards them, dressed like she was the last time Mike was frequenting the arcade, in faded jeans and a sports sweatshirt. Her scarlet hair is arranged in a messy bun, an atypical look for Max that makes her look oddly elegant.</p>
<p>But summer or fall, her perpetually unimpressed look never fades. The way that her arrival makes the boy’s smile twist into a look of horror is deeply comedic to Mike.</p>
<p>“He’s been to the arcade before, Christopher, he doesn’t need a tour,” Max informs the nerd, looping a hand around Mike’s elbow and tugging him away.</p>
<p>Mike is nonplussed. He and Max have never really been friendly, which at first was his fault, which for a long time had hung jagged with regret in his chest. He had been on the verge of apologising for his initial treatment of her a thousand times before she committed the ultimate sin of stealing El away and he had sworn off speaking to her. </p>
<p>When he considers it, Mike doesn’t think he has spoken to her since that hellish summer week. He had attended Billy’s funeral along with the rest of the party, had spent days in his basement and on hillsides listening to her lament the strangeness of having such a person save you, the guilt attached to relief over a person’s death. But they haven’t spoken directly, and since El left, he can’t recall seeing her unless around Lucas.</p>
<p>Something that resembles anger clings in his feelings about Max, Mike realises. It’s limp now where it used to be sharp. He has spoken with El about their breakup, neither of them had felt good about their behaviour surrounding it, and they’re in a good place again. Mike is aware that it’s inconsequential in the face of everything else, but his resentment still stirs at the feel of Max’s fingers on his sweater sleeve. </p>
<p>“At least Keith wasn’t talkative,” Max bemoans, with all the cavalierness of established friendship, the same tone she uses with the rest of the party. “Christopher has been pestering me with his employee-of-the-month routine ever since Keith resigned, it’s driving me crazy.”</p>
<p>“You’ve been coming to the arcade since before Keith changed jobs?” Mike asks, surprised.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m a little more loyal than the rest of you.” Her eyes glint with mischief, but Mike is taken off guard, feels defensive, and misinterprets her. </p>
<p>Bristling, he exclaims, “I’m loyal.” </p>
<p>Max’s front of friendliness is lost in an instant. She narrows her eyes at him, says, “I’m not being serious, Mike. Ever heard of a joke?” </p>
<p>A flush sweeps across his cheeks. It seems obvious at once, that her comment is harmless, the sort of ribbing used among party members constantly, that never seems malicious unless exchanged between he and Max.</p>
<p>For whatever reason, she spares him the indecency of admitting defeat. She prods him with her elbow, grinning as she challenges, “I’ll race you to Dig Dug.”</p>
<p>As she darts away in the direction of the mentioned game, Mike groans. “No fair! That’s your game, I’m never going to beat you.”</p>
<p>“I mean, you’re not gonna beat me at any of these games, so it might as well be Dig Dug - ”</p>
<p>Mike stares at her in amusement. “You talk a good game.”</p>
<p>“Because I’ve got the skills to back it up!” Max insists, hands on the Dig Dug machine. “Do you wanna see?”</p>
<p>Mike has seen Max play before, has heard Lucas raving in awe over her high scores multiple times. He doesn’t really need to have her gaming superiority proven. For whatever reason, he doesn’t consider pointing this out to her.</p>
<p>Instead he meets her at the game and feigns exasperation. “Alright. Show me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mike appreciates the structure provided by school. It gives him something that resembles purpose. A place to go every day, new problems to solve every hour; tangible, simple problems, printed clearly on paper with such obtainable answers. There’s nothing abstract about maths class and Mike dwells in how solid that is.</p>
<p>But then, there’s what’s always been a problem at school, the negatives attached to being studious and frog-faced, and a new one, abnormally tall. Once, the notion of being different and unlikeable had been concerning in the extreme. Now the bullying, the widespread dislike from peers, is merely inconvenient. Tiresome.</p>
<p>He doesn’t have friends in his English class, and the teacher has announced that their newest project will be conducted in pairs. It’s Mike’s least favourite setup; difficult to find partners if Lucas and Dustin aren’t there, and difficult to evenly distribute work once he has managed to worm his way into a group. He would really prefer ownership, making mistakes by himself.</p>
<p>Scanning his classmates, grumbling, Mike watches as partners are decided, drawing together in giggling excitement. Then he notices Max, sitting two rows behind him to his left, head tilted downwards, apparently disinterested in seeking a partner. She’s scribbling something angrily on her book, that Mike assumes is a drawing because the motions her hand is weaving seem too large to be letters.</p>
<p>He had forgotten that she is in his English class. It’s probably quite concerning, that Mike has no recollection of her presence in this class every week, but he concedes that he hasn’t been exactly engaged lately, hasn’t been paying attention to anything but whatever paper is put in front of him.</p>
<p>Before he can even think about it, he’s trying to catch Max’s attention. Waving at her, leaning back on his chair, stretching a hand towards her.</p>
<p>“Max,” he calls, softly.</p>
<p>“What?!” she snaps, attention gained, and stares up at him with blazing eyes. “You’re acknowledging I exist, now?”</p>
<p>Mike grimaces. They had spent such a fun day at the arcade together the week before last, and since then had been notably nicer around each other at lunchtimes and whenever hanging out with the party. He assumes that this return to prickliness indicates her offence at him inadvertently ignoring her during English class. Or - maybe she’s just in a bad mood. Hence the scribbling. Mike has noticed in the year that he’s known Max that she’s ruthless when she’s upset, spares no one from her ferocity.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he tells her, making an effort to colour his words in sincerity. “Would you believe me if I excused it with dissociation?”</p>
<p>Max scrutinises him, but yields, “Yeah. I assumed as much.”</p>
<p>A smile crosses his face, a natural reaction. A dim awareness comes of the people surrounding and separating them, of the likelihood of them overhearing his casual mentions of trauma symptoms, and whatever strangeness Max’s blunt ways will expose about their friendship. Strangely, he can’t bring himself to care.</p>
<p>“I’m not actually mad at you,” Max says, sighing. “I’m mad at Lucas, it’s stupid. You wanna be partners?”</p>
<p>“Yes, thanks,” Mike replies. He’s full of gratitude and it shows in his voice. Max’s repose shows on her face, a broken facade, a twitch of her mouth.</p>
<p>The bell rings, and the class disperses in a flurry of fumbling students. Mike is the only student to wait until the teacher has finished telling them about their homework, offering her a polite nod on his way out. Max is outside the door, tapping her foot impatiently as she waits for Mike.</p>
<p>“I want to do Lady MacBeth, for our project,” Max informs Mike, as they make for the lockers.</p>
<p>“Really, you wouldn’t rather the prompt about MacBeth being an antihero?” Mike asks sarcastically. “As if Lady MacBeth isn’t the most interesting part of the play.”</p>
<p>Max giggles. “By far, right? Even though what she said about killing her baby was a bit weird - ”</p>
<p>“Weird doesn’t negate interesting,” Mike says. They reach his locker first, and he’s surprised when Max lingers, leaning against the steel door next to his. “‘I shalt not hesitate to crush the skull of an infant for thee’ - ”</p>
<p>Max’s giggle returns, and she reanimates from her slouch to chastise him, “That isn’t what she says!”</p>
<p>“I’m paraphrasing!”</p>
<p>“You’re ridiculous,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m gonna go get my lunch, but I’ll see you at our table?”</p>
<p>Mike lets his broad smile soften. “Yeah. I’ll see you soon, Max.”</p>
<p>It will be soon - five minutes, at most. Ludicrously, though, watching Max walk away from him feels like a loss. Mike feels vulnerable in the sea of students. He wishes that somebody could stick with him, somebody strong like Max. Like El.</p>
<p>He misses El. It’s a boundless ache, something sharp that he carries in every moment. </p>
<p>It’s better than it was when she was gone the first time, because now he gets to talk to her, gets to know that she’s okay. But where the grief is gone, now he feels hurt, cheated. The world doesn’t want them to be together. Worse, the world doesn’t want El to be happy. Her suffering never seems to end, and it’s the worst thing about Mike’s life.</p>
<p>It seems very wretched, how it’s all turned out. He still can’t believe that they’ve ended up separated again, because he won’t let himself process it, can’t let himself think about it for that long. Otherwise, how else would he be able to hold himself together? Mike envisions arms wrapped tight around his ribs, organs shunted upright.</p>
<p>He slams his locker door shut. With his packed lunch in hand, he seeks distraction.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mike beats Max to the diner, surprising neither of them. Originally, they were going to walk there from school together to work on the MacBeth assignment, but Max had rushed past him in the hallway once school had finished, shouting something about chores and meeting him at 4:30 instead.</p>
<p>It’s five o’clock before she arrives, and Mike manages a mildly annoyed look for greeting. Max laughs at him and doesn’t apologise when she moves to sit across from him.</p>
<p>“I completely forgot about the laundry, and vacuuming the floors, and the fact that we were going to meet tonight,” she tells him, instead of sorry. </p>
<p>Mike is tempted to tell her off, but he empathises for how absentminded he has been recently, and he senses that stakes for forgotten chores might be high in her house. </p>
<p>“Remember, next time, for my sake?” Mike asks, a reply he knows is too clement. </p>
<p>But she delights in his question, scrunches her face with mock offence. “Oh, you think there’s going to be a <em> next </em>time? Bold of you to think I’m ever going to work with you again. I haven’t had another study partner be so demanding before!” </p>
<p>“Demanding?” Mike repeats, laughing. </p>
<p>“This is probably the first time I’ve done work so soon after it’s been assigned.” </p>
<p>“It’s been three days!” Mike exclaims. “That says more about you than it does about me.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, that you’re a ginormous nerd,” Max scoffs. “I should have predicted this, joining the party. You were dressed like the Ghostbusters when we first met.” </p>
<p>“It was Halloween!” Mike protests.</p>
<p>“Nobody else was wearing costumes,” Max points out, eyes blown with playfulness. </p>
<p>“We didn’t realise they weren’t going to!” Mike is laughing. “They did the year before.” </p>
<p>Max shrugs, pouts her bottom lip in pity. “Well, if you weren’t all such losers, you would have gotten the memo when the rest of us did.” </p>
<p>“You hanging out with us kind of makes you a loser, too, doesn’t it?”</p>
<p>“No, I’m just there to balance the rest of you out,” Max explains. </p>
<p>Mike snorts. “Well, that’s why Dustin and Lucas were so obsessed with you. They thought you were so effortlessly cool.” </p>
<p>Excitement bursts instantaneously in Max’s eyes. “Is that so? Please tell me more about Lucas embarrassing himself over me, before we got together.” </p>
<p>“Considering you did get together, I don’t know if it’s really embarrassing.”</p>
<p>“What else could it possibly be?” Max demands. </p>
<p>“Romantic!” Mike retorts, defending his best friend, not realising in his haste how mortifying such an answer is.</p>
<p>Regret is appropriate; Max starts chortling with laughter, doesn’t stop even when the waitress arrives at their table. She wears her best customer service smile, but eyes lively Max with poorly concealed disapproval.</p>
<p>“You still going with the milkshake?” the waitress asks Mike, gesturing to the glass of dregs.</p>
<p>“Can I please get another? Two more?” Mike asks, glancing at Max who nods assent.</p>
<p>“Chocolate again? For both of you?”</p>
<p>“And a serving of fries, thanks,” Max says. “Mike, tell me about how <em> romantic </em>Lucas was.” </p>
<p>“No!” Mike insists, chuckling at her forcefulness, and throwing an apologetic look at the departing waitress. “You could be a little more polite, you know?” </p>
<p>“Who cares?” Max is dismissive. “You have to tell me about Stalker.” </p>
<p>“I’m not going to betray his trust!” Mike replies, causing Max to groan and slump back into her seat. Suddenly smirking, he adds, “But the number of times he’s come to me with whatever little worry or thought about you…” </p>
<p>Max straightens, her mouth falling open with shocked fury. “You are the <em> worst </em>, you know that? I’m not going to let you leave this booth until you give me details.” </p>
<p>Mike is unshakeable in loyalty and doesn’t falter for all Max’s pestering. But twilight has darkened the sky by the time that they leave the booth, and in all the time they spend talking, their textbooks are left untouched, their backpacks unopened at their feet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Monopoly at Dustin’s house runs later than expected. It’s a Friday night and none of their parents are all that intrusive about their whereabouts, but curfews are rigid and Mike only has twenty minutes before he’ll have to face his mother’s wrath.</p>
<p>The night is so black that it makes Mike nervous. Each party member mounts a bike, wheels rustling over the road. They’re lit only by the streetlights, vague contours of faces that Mike can only make out because he knows them all so well.</p>
<p>Max, their Zoomer through and through, is yards ahead. There’s a glint in her fiery hair that isn’t stifled by the darkness, somehow.</p>
<p>“Well, I can’t hang out tomorrow,” Dustin is informing Lucas, his voice all theatrical gravitas. “I’m calling Suzie.”</p>
<p>Mike’s forehead furrows with the exasperation Lucas expresses immediately. “Is that one call an all day activity?! What is Max supposed to do?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t know, Lucas, maybe she could spend time with her boyfriend?!”</p>
<p>“Maybe I can speak for myself? Maybe I don’t need to hang out with you idiots for entertainment?” Max tries to interrupt, but only Mike hears, not because Dustin and Lucas are disrespectful but because they become very engrossed in their bickering.</p>
<p>“Do you listen to anything I say? I’m babysitting tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“So you forgot about our Paladin, then.”</p>
<p>Under her breath, Max mutters something about Dustin being a dumbass. Mike laughs in agreement, tells Dustin, “I’m babysitting too. Lucas and I are babysitting together.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Dustin pauses. “Max, what are you going to do?”</p>
<p>“Have a day of peace, for once,” Max teases. “I don’t know, I’ll skateboard or something. It’s not like we have to hang out every day.”</p>
<p>Mike can see Lucas’s frown in the dark, knows the look like the back of his hand.</p>
<p>“Wait, you babysit literally together?” Max asks, on another wavelength. “As in, you watch over Erica and Holly at the same time?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, we do it all the time,” Mike says.</p>
<p>“Are they <em> friends</em>?” Max asks. Her earnestness is incongruously sweet.</p>
<p>“Not really,” Lucas admits. “Erica resents having babysitters and thinks she’s too grown up for Holly’s games - which is kind of stupid because I know she likes dolls too - so then Mike and I have to play instead.”</p>
<p>“What kind of games?”</p>
<p>“Barbies, tea parties, makeovers,” Mike lists.</p>
<p>“No way!” Max is buoyant, overjoyed. “What colour lipstick is your favourite, Lucas?”</p>
<p>Lucas grumbles, says nothing. Mike and Dustin’s joined laughter echoes along the road, stark for the rest of the world’s silence. </p>
<p>“The baby pink suits you,” Mike contributes, biting his smile.</p>
<p>“Not helping, Mike.” Lucas is all indignance.</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t be embarrassed, Stalker,” Max composes herself to say. “It’s really nice of you. Holly’s lucky to have such devoted babysitters.”</p>
<p>Dustin sees this for the joke it is and breaks into fresh peals of laughter. Empathic Mike and in love Lucas are troubled by the implications, what Max might have wanted from an older brother, even a parent. Certainly what she deserves, and not what she has.</p>
<p>“It sounds like fun, too,” Max is speaking quickly, not with eagerness but in an effort to pass over what she’s just accidentally bared. “Getting to hang out with Erica and Holly, and play with them.”</p>
<p>“You can come, Max,” Mike says, the words out before he’s thought them over. He doubts this is something Max wants, but the idea of her being there is appealing, and her voice had been too wistful not to make the offer.</p>
<p>Lucas shoots him an appreciative look. “It’d be even more fun if you did.”</p>
<p>Max is quiet. She looks over her shoulder for one swift moment, face unreadable for how dark it is, but Mike thinks he sees conflict, sought assurances. He knows that he and Lucas are steady in the moonlight, sincere in their care, and he’s glad for it.</p>
<p>“Alright,” she allows. “If you guys are sure.”</p>
<p>The next morning, Max knocks on the Wheeler’s front door and stands bright-eyed among the grey clouds. Her ponytail is upheld by a soft yellow scrunchie that Mike swears he has seen El wearing.</p>
<p>“She left it behind,” Max explains in lieu of hello. “By accident. I’ll give it back to her whenever we see her next.”</p>
<p>Impossibly saddened, Mike nods and opens the door. Max treads past him and into the house, donning a wide smile when Lucas appears, little Holly clinging to his hand.</p>
<p>Max crouches and waves, greeting, “Hi, Holly!”</p>
<p>Holly doesn’t know Max well and dips shyly behind Lucas, though offers her a smile in response. Mike recalls a time where such shows of cuteness were annoying, but he thinks that he is becoming more patient and he takes great relief in it.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to be shy with Max, Holly. She’s my friend.” The last part is in a gush of plain truth. Surprise flickers over Lucas’s face, and Max assumes proper posture so that she can turn to fixate him, shiny strands swishing around her.</p>
<p>Her gaze is steady, betrays subdued wonder. She smiles at him after a heavy beat, small with sincerity, fleeting with significance, and Mike is struck with the realisation that calling her a friend might be an understatement.</p>
<p>“She’s my girlfriend!” Lucas adds to Holly, sounding very proud.</p>
<p>This declaration appeals to Holly. Romance is a recent interest of hers, the result of being raised on fairy tales. She looks between Lucas and Max, something soft and intrigued coming over her cerulean eyes.</p>
<p>“You guys are<em> in love</em>?” she blurts, swept up in her own excitement.</p>
<p>The ensuing awkwardness is palpable, and Holly is spared from it in her four-year-old bliss. As Lucas’s closest friend, Mike knows everything that goes on between Lucas and Max at great length, in intimate detail. As far as he’s been told, they haven’t reached the love stage, though he can tell that Lucas teeters these lines and doubts Max ever will. </p>
<p>“That’s a question for your brother,” Max answers Holly smoothly. “What have you guys been doing today?”</p>
<p>Holly’s initial trepidation all but forgotten, she launches into a babbling explanation of what is happening in the lives of her dolls, and how they were just preparing for a tea party. Max listens attentively - somehow Mike didn’t imagine her as being very patient with children - and directs several amused glances at her friends, when Holly mentions Lucas’s insistence that one of the Barbies become an astronaut, and when she gestures to the rocketship that the boys had made out of an old milk carton. </p>
<p>Satisfied that her new friend is up to date with everything, Holly darts upstairs to retrieve her tea set from her bedroom, leaving the three teenagers alone.</p>
<p>“Have you guys considered careers in toy making?” Max teases, grazing her hand over the pipe cleaners protruding from their rocketship.</p>
<p>Lucas huffs. “You’d get tired of the happy families storyline if you were babysitting regularly, too.” </p>
<p>“Hey, the horseriding storyline is fun,” Mike says, a bit defensive. “Skipper is so close to qualifying for the dressage championship.”</p>
<p>“You sound quite invested,” Max points out, regaled, but Mike has no chance for rebuttal because Holly returns, her spindly arms overflowing with toy utensils.</p>
<p>“Aren’t you guys coming?” she asks.</p>
<p>“We’re coming,” Mike assures her, tapping Lucas to prompt him into action.</p>
<p>On their way to the staircase, Erica surfaces from the living room sour-faced. “Keep it down, won’t you, nerds?”</p>
<p>“Our tea party is too loud for yours?” Lucas asks pointedly. He disapproves of her not joining in.</p>
<p>“Hi, Erica,” Max says, curling her fist to give Erica knuckles.</p>
<p>“I didn’t know you were coming, Max! Oh, wait. Yes I did,” Erica’s smile becomes devilish before she launches into her impersonation. “‘Oh Mike, I thought I wouldn’t have time to see Max today! Maybe I can impress her with my mad babysitting skills!’”</p>
<p>“Shut up, Erica,” Lucas groans, taking a delighted Max by the elbow and pulling her along, away from his traitorous sister. “I swear I didn’t say that, she’s just the worst.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Max’s grin is fond, and Mike hopes Lucas can tell.</p>
<p>The curtains are open in Holly’s room, showering the pink walls with what sparse light escapes the clouds. A large dollhouse is set against one wall, the small cluttered rooms strewn with Barbies that spill over the rug. There’s a short white table, surrounded by mismatched seats: a pair of ottomans, a sagging bean bag and a wooden purple chair. </p>
<p>“We can’t have real tea, because it’s too hot,” Holly explains to Max, as she starts to set out the plastic saucers and tea cups. “So just use your imagination.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Max says, trying very hard not to laugh. </p>
<p>The afternoon unfolds bright and beatific. Hours pass in the fun of it all. </p>
<p>They’ve grown to the point of discomfort, in stooping to sit at the table for tea and gossip, scheming tales of interest for Holly, a prince who dislikes royal duties, a ballerina who is clumsy unless in her slippers. </p>
<p>It’s better when they return to the dolls. They load the handmade rocketship with dolls and go careening around the house, weaving it through imaginary planets and stars. </p>
<p>They take a break for lunch, Max and Holly swinging their legs at the kitchen counter, while Lucas pours apple juice and Mike makes peanut butter sandwiches.  </p>
<p>Afterwards, the babysitters oblige when Holly deems them in need of makeovers and sets Max in front of the mirror in her bedroom. Lucas can’t contain his laughter, watching as the little girl dusts blush over Max’s already rosy complexion, piles heavy violet eyeshadow over her lids. </p>
<p>“Pause!” Holly exclaims, halfway through mascara, thrusting her hands in the air.</p>
<p>Each party member freezes at once, waiting for their next instruction.</p>
<p>“I have to use the toilet. I’ll be right back. Nobody move a muscle!”</p>
<p>They listen as Holly giggles on her way out, all the way to the bathroom.</p>
<p>It is strange to be without her in such a state. Max is smudged with makeup, Lucas holds a range of cosmetic brushes, and Mike carries a tube of lip gloss. If they wipe anything off or put anything down, if they move too noticeably, they will be reprimanded, and for a moment they are still, looking among themselves breathlessly. </p>
<p>As one, they crash with giddy laughter. Examining her dark cheeks and the bruised colour of her eyes, Max marvels, “I look insane.”</p>
<p>“I’ve never wanted you more,” Lucas tells her, his grin dopey.</p>
<p>“We’ve looked worse,” Mike assures her. “This is a tame look by Holly standards. One time she used green eyeshadow on my cheeks!”</p>
<p>But it doesn’t gain the laugh Mike had aimed for. Max seems overcome by macabre, isn’t looking at them when she murmurs, “El would have loved this.”</p>
<p>An unexpected revelation. The rapture has faded from Lucas’s face, replaced with concern, though in a rare moment it flares more for Mike than Max. A correct instinct, because Mike feels shattered, feels ice trickling over his heart, a crack in a facade that he’s clinging to with all his might.</p>
<p>He swallows sharply, turns away. He doesn’t see Max’s apologetic look, doesn’t see Lucas’s sympathy shift into realised exasperation over the unbridled melodrama.</p>
<p>Lucas sighs loudly, and bursts after months of patience, “You two are impossible. You act like El is dead! She’s <em> fine</em>. I got a letter from her last week, she told me she was baking cupcakes! It’s not a big deal, she isn’t missing out on anything - we’ll make sure to set her in front of Mike with some makeup next time she visits.” </p>
<p>Distantly, Mike feels glad that Holly isn’t with them. Distantly, Mike is surprised by Lucas’s bluntness, as he had been under the impression that Lucas was graciously tolerating Mike’s sadness, and wouldn’t have imagined him being so coarse with Max.</p>
<p>But Max seems unperturbed. She is looking at Lucas with reverence and relief. Something bitter in Mike’s throat swells, spills in descent until he’s full to the brim.</p>
<p>Later, after Mrs Wheeler and Mrs Sinclair have returned and Lucas and Max have left for an impromptu date, Mike sits on his bed with downturned shoulders. It’s a relief to be alone, to not have to pretend for Holly’s sake, or to appease Lucas’s reasonableness.</p>
<p>Before he knows it, he’s sifting through the pile of letters, postcards and drawings on his desk. Some of the pictures El has drawn for him are pinned to his walls, alongside several of the postcards, but he keeps plucking them off so that he can inspect them more closely and it’s accumulated in a much loved stack of paper.</p>
<p>He isn’t due to call El for another few days, so he knows that he might not be answered when he trails to the kitchen to call her.</p>
<p>But El picks up and the first thing she says is, “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>As though she’s part of him, and bore the ache when he got it, too. As though she has been waiting for the chance to relieve it since it materialised earlier that afternoon.</p>
<p>Mike doesn’t bother with pleasantries. “I just. Don’t know how to cope with this being what’s happened.”</p>
<p>Articulating the fervour of his feelings seems impossible. He is relying on El’s sensitivity to him, the impossible way she has always understood his heart.</p>
<p>She is quiet. “I don’t know either.”</p>
<p>Things could not be further from funny, but Mike laughs wetly, a broken sound.</p>
<p>“It’s not nearly enough to say that I miss you. Or that I love you.”</p>
<p>“I know it’s not. Just tell me about your day, instead.”</p>
<p>She is melancholic and still so sweet, so earnest that it seems she is right here, standing in this yellow room by his blue side. He feels her hands hooked in his elbows, and the weight of her honey gaze trained tenderly on his good-for-nothing face. </p>
<p>“I was babysitting with Lucas,” Mike hears himself speaking. “Max came along.”</p>
<p>“That sounds like fun,” El says. “Did Max have a good time?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, she did,” Mike replies. “I didn’t think she would be one for dolls.”</p>
<p>“I think she was more into the outdoors when she was little,” El muses. “Maybe that’s why she enjoyed it today? Because she never let herself before.”</p>
<p>Mike’s laugh is more sincere this time. “I hadn’t thought of that. You’re so smart.”</p>
<p>“I’m perceptive,” El says. “That’s what Max says.”</p>
<p>“Well, she’s right.”</p>
<p>“Wow,” El giggles, and from hundreds of miles away Mike can see the flash of fun in her eyes, the way she is surely dimpling. “I never thought you would say that!”</p>
<p>“We’ve been getting along a little better, recently,” Mike admits, feeling chastised.</p>
<p>“I know. She told me. She said you got an A+ in English together.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure that makes you happy, us getting along,” Mike realises aloud. El has mentioned before that they are her two favourite people, Mike then Max then Dustin and Lucas then Will. She hadn’t talked about Hopper, but Mike knows somehow that not even her dad could outrank him, whatever incredulity besets the knowledge that Mike will always be first. </p>
<p>“It does,” El agrees. “I think you could help each other.”</p>
<p>Mike finds himself looking through the window at Lucas’s front yard. He recalls the countless times he has rushed through that grass with his friends, the seeming endlessness of the period when he wasn’t tall enough to peer through overhead windows. He recalls the times he has seen Max storming out of that yard since she started dating Lucas, the times he encouraged Lucas to give up on her. How he had been convinced that she was torturing his best friend with her frivolity for his feelings. </p>
<p>He senses ignorance in these assumptions. Something El and Lucas picked up on that he was too busy being annoyed to notice, his usual empathy discarded.</p>
<p>“I think we could, too,” Mike confesses softly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Without realising, Mike and Max make a routine of visiting the arcade together. Every Thursday night they end in the same position, trailing after each other from console to console, enjoying the various games with increasing measures of boisterousness. </p>
<p>Mike isn’t sure if Max is there by coincidence for how often she goes, or if she has observed his weekly timing and followed suit. Either way, he relishes Thursday evenings, the unobscured fun of the animated challenges, and how exciting it is to be around Max’s infallible wit, her infallible skill for all things gaming. </p>
<p>He has made his own game out of trying to distract her, since it’s the only certain way to prevent a win. He tries touching her wrist, her shoulders, prodding and tapping her, blocking buttons until Max bashes his fingers away. Regardless of the overall impact of his distractions on her game, Max always turns around at the end of the round and punches him harder than Lucas or Dustin ever could. </p>
<p>One high score on Pac-Man that she achieved a year ago and has never surpassed is an ongoing challenge. She’s one hundred points short of finally beating herself when Mike slips his hand around one of her thick auburn braids and tugs on it. </p>
<p>Max huffs and swats at his hand. Something surprised and vaguely murderous dances in her eyes as she finishes off the game, miraculously managing to win another hundred points ahead of the previous score.</p>
<p>Mike laughs, amazed. “You did it!”</p>
<p>“With no help from you, you idiot!” But she is grinning, impressed by herself.</p>
<p>“Whoa,” Mike says, looking back at the flashing screen. “What are we going to do now? I think we’ve officially peaked.”</p>
<p>Max rolls her eyes. “Someone’s a high aimer. Are you hungry?”</p>
<p>Mike realises that he is. “Yeah, why?”</p>
<p>Abruptly leaving, Max calls over her shoulder, “I want to eat something. You coming?” </p>
<p>They walk along the streets, talking with ease, until they come across a fast food restaurant. It is the visibly greasy kind that is strangely comforting. Max orders their dinner while Mike surreptitiously wipes their grimy table down with napkins he plucks from the dispenser on the front counter. Max catches him in the act and snorts, embarrassed on his behalf. </p>
<p>“Sissy,” she says, poking her tongue out. Mike flips her off. </p>
<p>She returns ten minutes later, balancing a checkered red box holding two hotdogs in one hand and two bottles of Coke by the necks in the other. She dumps the contents on the almost clean table, reaching for her papered meal as soon as she sits. </p>
<p>Mike watches her for a moment, thoughtful. “Can I ask you something?”</p>
<p>“Shoot,” Max says, preoccupied with squirting tomato sauce on her hot dog.</p>
<p>“Why did you go to the arcade by yourself?” Mike tries to keep his voice low, because he’s curious, not judgemental. “Even when we stopped going. Even before you knew us - Mad Max was really the first time we encountered you.”   </p>
<p>Max meets his eyes, her face bordering on dubious. She shrugs, addresses her food, “It’s always been a comforting place for me, I guess. I went when I was in California and feeling lonely. Stuff that happened with Billy… it kind of isolated me from my friends. But I always had the arcade. Even when I moved here I did.”</p>
<p>She prefers not to be vulnerable and Mike doesn’t blame her. El understands secrets but she had been disturbed by Max’s story and gone to Mike for comfort. He knows about Max’s friend being hurt by Billy, the way that distance had grown between them in the subsequent months. He agrees with El that the boy wasn’t a good friend, that Billy was a monster, that Max deserves better.</p>
<p>Mike is surprised that she’s being so honest with him. He can tell that it won’t take much for her to turn on him, if he doesn’t react right. “I get it. That day that I saw you in the arcade, a familiar place was what I wanted.”</p>
<p>Max nods sagely. “That makes sense. You did look pretty pathetic.”</p>
<p>The scoff he answers with mismatches his wide smile. He reaches over to pull on her braid again, and Max pushes his hands away with a sigh, her scowl at odds with the smile she’s fighting. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mike has trained himself to wake at the sound of the phone ringing. He needs to be quick before the rest of his family is alerted and starts asking questions amidst his endeavours to calm his girlfriend down from whatever nightmare has shaken her. It’s a habit he perfected when El was still in Hawkins, even though she usually used the Supercomm to contact him; it’s come in good use now that she’s so far and the range is lost, with no supernatural aid for it.</p>
<p>Ambling down the carpeted hallway and descending the stairs in wool socks, Mike digs the foot of his palm into his bleary eyes. A rare good dream had enveloped him moments ago, something dim and sunny, a field of flowers that El was lacing together stem by stem. Mike hadn’t seemed to be part of the dream himself, just a figureless observer, part of the grass or the sky.</p>
<p>He picks up the phone and coos into the receiver, “El, it’s okay, I’m here. What happened?”</p>
<p>A pause. A long pause. Longer than usual, even for El, even for the worst dreams she’s reported.</p>
<p>“El? It’s alright, I promise. You know about dreams, I’ll tell you again, listen to my voice and try to breathe. Dreams aren’t real, they’re just part of sleeping, they - ”</p>
<p>“Mike,” Max interrupts him. Mike isn’t sure how he identifies her, because she sounds meek and nothing like herself. </p>
<p>“Oh,” Mike says, leaning against the kitchen wall. His eyes fall shut as relief swells sharply in his chest. He hopes this means that somewhere El is resting soundly.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Max sounds mortified. Mike’s relief dwindles at once, shifts to concern.</p>
<p>“No, Max, don’t be,” he insists, words toppling into each other in his rush. “I don’t mind you calling me, I really don’t.”</p>
<p>“I’m really sorry,” Max is insistent too. In the blue dark of the kitchen, Mike is abruptly aware of the vast similarities he shares with Max, and the likelihood of this being the source of their rocky start.</p>
<p>“I couldn’t call Lucas with another nightmare, I’ve done it, like, three times since Billy - ” Max cuts herself off. She sounds panicked and it doesn’t make sense to Mike, doesn’t make sense for untouchable, fierce Max. But isn’t El like that too? The toughest person ever, and still susceptible to fear, human in a way that only emphasises her strength.</p>
<p>“Three times is nothing. El calls me every other week,” Mike stays steady. “Lucas wants to help you, Max, he’s worried about you. He cares about you a lot.”</p>
<p>Max’s breathing seems uneven. “I’m not going to burden him.”</p>
<p>Mike frowns. “He would never think of you as a burden. Would you think he was a burden, if he was calling you with nightmares?”</p>
<p>There’s no response. Mike isn’t sure if it’s because she has nothing to say or because she is too wobbly to articulate anything.</p>
<p>“Do you think I care about El calling me?” he adds.</p>
<p>“It’s different,” Max finds her voice. “It’s El. It’s <em> Lucas </em>.” </p>
<p>“You’re important, too, Max.”</p>
<p>Max huffs, blatant disagreement. In a small voice that Mike thinks is almost a wail, she admits, “That doesn’t sound very reliable.”</p>
<p>Mike has a thousand questions and resists asking all of them. He’s got other priorities, and all of the complicated details are lost alongside daylight. What’s relevant is bared in the unmoving kitchen, simple for Mike to put into words for the girl on the other line.</p>
<p>“But it is,” he says. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of insufferably stubborn and immovable and loyal. You can rely on me to be your friend.”</p>
<p>“You weren’t always,” Max replies sharply. “You didn’t want me around, for a long time.”</p>
<p>“And I’m sorry,” Mike keeps his tone level. “I’m really sorry. I really regret the way I first treated you. I was just angry, and scared that the others were replacing El.”</p>
<p>“Replacing El - Jesus,” Max says with a disbelieving chuckle. “Dustin and Lucas were talking about El even before she came back, even when they weren’t allowed. They were never trying to replace her.”</p>
<p>“I know that now. At the time I was overreacting because I was so desperate. She was gone, and I was - well, you remember what I was like.”</p>
<p>“And she’s gone again,” Max says quietly. She’s pitying Mike, and honestly, he appreciates it.</p>
<p>“At least I know she’s okay this time,” Mike tries for alleviation. “I am genuinely sorry, Max. For how I was when we met, for not apologising sooner, for how I was when you and El made friends - I get it, now, everything you were saying about her having her own agency and - ”</p>
<p>“And I understand that you were just trying to protect her,” Max says, words reluctant in her mouth like such a sentiment is inconvenient. “I think I was just worried about how consumed she was in you. My mum’s entire life is defined by whoever she’s dating and I don’t want that for El. She’s better than that.”</p>
<p>“I agree,” Mike says emphatically. “I don’t take a day with her for granted. I know how much better she is than me, than any boy in existence. I’m pretty much just waiting for her to wake up to that herself and move on to someone better.”</p>
<p>Max laughs. “She won’t ever do that. We both know that.”</p>
<p>“Neither of us know why,” Mike points out.</p>
<p>Max thinks that she might, but doesn’t say so. Instead she guffaws and tells him, “You’re stupid, but I forgive you. And I’m sorry, too. I knew that you weren’t like the losers my mum dates. I think part of it was that I wanted El to be my friend - I’d never had a girl friend before and I connected so well with her, I didn’t want her to start hanging out with you and no one else again.”</p>
<p>Mike smiles, feels sticky with the thought of El having such friends. “She really wanted to be your friend, too. That was part of the reason behind the breakup thing, you know. She wanted to impress you.”</p>
<p>“Really?” Max sounds surprised.</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>There’s a silence as Max takes this in. Mike watches the gleam on the kitchen counter, the glimpse of a silver moon through his mother’s floral curtains. </p>
<p>“We kind of set the odds against our friendship, didn’t we?” Max finally says, wistful.</p>
<p>Mike manages a laugh. “Kind of. I’m glad you played with me in the arcade, that day.”</p>
<p>“I felt like I owed you, after you let me have Lucas that one day.”</p>
<p>He’s puzzled by this confession. “What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>“Don’t you remember?” Max asks, with an air of surprise. “After the Byers left, before the arcade - it was raining?”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Mike says, incredulous. He remembers the morning she speaks of, the burnt beginnings of autumn, the light rainfall pattering the grass as he had jogged up to the veranda. Max had appeared around the corner from what seemed like nowhere, huddled in a crinkling rain jacket and small like Mike never thinks of her.</p>
<p>Already on the doormat, he was the clear winner of their sudden race. But he had looked at her like a person, something she had not resembled during the arguments over El. He had thought about how she usually had no qualms about showing how she felt, and about the implications of being expressionless now. He had tilted his head and left, had not seen her almost smile, had thought that his ability to recognise what she needed then was as close to the Max that El talked about as he would ever get.</p>
<p>How wrong he had been.</p>
<p>“That was nothing,” he says, meaning to convey his gladness.</p>
<p>“Maybe not to you,” Max says. It’s obvious that she means to say more but the words hang between them, unsaid and unsure. The lacking certainty is not for Mike, but he takes little comfort in this, knowing that she’s harbouring insecurity for herself instead.</p>
<p>The silence lingers. Mike isn’t alarmed by it like he would be with El. He feels responsible for Max in the same way that he feels responsible for Will, Dustin and Lucas, but not in the same fervent way he does El, and the shift in attachment makes for a calmer phone call than midnight’s usual.</p>
<p>Mike knows that Max’s family life is horrendous. Billy was abusive, Neil still is, and her mother is so stifled, never able to stand up for herself, nor her daughter. Mike’s dad never says hello to him and he guesses that if he exacerbates the feelings of frustration and inadequacy surrounding that relationship by a thousand, then he might understand all of Max’s mistrust and efforts of self-preservation.</p>
<p>When Max speaks again, it’s to tell Mike about her nightmare.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mrs Wheeler has always been very welcoming to Mike’s friends, something that he is trying to be more appreciative of now that he is older. The party comes wheeling into his house one Friday afternoon, restless from school and eager for play, and Mike notices for the first time just how exuberant they are. </p>
<p>His mother takes it in her stride, smiling at each teenager with true kindness, offering them snacks and asking about their days. Mike feels softness for her, and for his friends in turn when they politely answer her and thank her hospitality.</p>
<p>The illusion of modesty is erased the moment they make it to the basement. Dustin and Max are battling over the Atari (dragged to the basement for the rest of the Wheeler family’s peace), brandishing impressive obscenities to indicate the absolute seriousness of their tournament. Lucas is irked not to have Max’s attention, and Mike is irked not to have access to the controllers for so long, since Max and Dustin are so fixated on beating each other for some reason.</p>
<p>“We could go and get some food?” Lucas suggests, during Max and Dustin’s fourth round. He’s doing a better job than usual of passively watching; Mike knows he feels a need to be in on the action.</p>
<p>Max does too, and hands him her controller. “Finish the round for me, Stalker. I’ll go, before Mike brings back dried bananas or something.”</p>
<p>“What indication have I given that I would do that?” Mike asks, sighing.</p>
<p>“Your mum was talking about them!” Max says, already halfway up the stairs. “We need chips, we’re growing kids.”</p>
<p>“I think we have some barbeque flavoured ones,” Mike calls after her, before deciding she needs supervision and following her upstairs. He wonders, as he watches her wind around the kitchen counter and open the pantry, when it was that she became so familiar with his house.</p>
<p>She reemerges holding the chips he had mentioned and a packet of pretzels, bumps right into him. She hadn’t been expecting him and wears the surprise on her face. He steadies with his hands on her shoulders, and her fuzzy jumper is soft under his skin.</p>
<p>She raises a pale eyebrow at him. “Is this okay, Mum? Or do you want me to get the almonds?”</p>
<p>Mike shakes his head. “Last time I let Dustin in the kitchen without me, a raccoon got inside.”</p>
<p>Max smiles at the story. “Do I look like Dustin to you?”</p>
<p>“I guess not,” he concedes, leading her back downstairs.</p>
<p>Not even an hour later, to the group’s collective and immense surprise, Max is dozing on the basement sofa. She had claimed that she would watch for a few rounds, but with the first flutter of her eyes was unable to keep them open again, had slipped without lucidity down the cushions until she was dead to the world. </p>
<p>The party stands before her wearing matching looks of bewilderment. It’s reminiscent of a scene from years ago, three bewildered boys and a girl, someone almost alien, and so immeasurably precious. To complete the effect, Lucas finds his jacket and drapes it over Max’s frame. They have blankets upstairs but Mike decides against suggesting they get one. </p>
<p>Dustin looks over at his friends, sorrowful. “It’s like nothing’s changed, in some ways.”</p>
<p>“I miss El,” Lucas says. Mike realises that it’s his first time hearing Lucas say it in such plain terms, that usually he respects Mike’s need not to say anything out loud.</p>
<p>It’s a good thing Mike feels up to being the strong one, for once. “We’re really lucky, in the way that our party’s expanded.”</p>
<p>Dustin’s eyes glisten. “Our girls.”</p>
<p>Mike feels a bit dazed by such a proclamation. Lucas seems similarly affected, gaze thoughtful and trained on Max. Dustin is wiping at his nose with a tissue he produced from his pocket, but breaks the moment, shuffling over to the Atari again.</p>
<p>“Mike,” Lucas beckons, softly. </p>
<p>“Yeah?” Mike answers at once, at the same volume.</p>
<p>“Do you think she’s okay?” Lucas sounds fearful. “Or that she’s going to be okay?”</p>
<p>He doesn’t answer immediately, doing Lucas the good deed of pondering his answer. “I think she will be. She’s tough, and she’s got good friends, good support.”</p>
<p>“She’s so tired,” Lucas says, observing the uncommon peace of her pretty face. “I never would have imagined her passing out by accident like that.”</p>
<p>“It’s good that she’s sleeping. It seems like she needs it,” Mike says with a shrug.</p>
<p>Lucas looks up at him with a wry smile. “You’re right that she has good support. You’ve been really good to her, from what I’ve heard.”</p>
<p>Mike is stunned. “She said that to you?”</p>
<p>“In bits and pieces,” Lucas answers. “But I’ve noticed it too. You’ve always been our leader, I’m glad that she’s included in that now.”</p>
<p>Sheepishness clouds Mike. The further he gets from the first week he had known Max, the more absurd it seems. He hopes that someday it won’t be tentative at all, and everybody will make fun of him for once acting so bizarrely towards their Zoomer. </p>
<p>“I’m not trying to have a go at you for before,” Lucas says. “I’m trying to thank you for now. Max refuses to accept help, so being her boyfriend is hard, especially when she needs help. You’re taking the load off, at least a little.”</p>
<p>Mike hasn’t considered this before. He’s not sure how he would cope, if El wasn’t prone to talking to him about her troubles, if she actively pushed him away when she was upset. It would drive him insane, and he’s filled with sudden respect for Lucas.</p>
<p>He places a hand on Lucas’s shoulder, and assures him, “We’ll make sure she’s okay.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mike doesn’t get up as early as he used to, but Max has never been one for rising before necessary on weekends. It makes for good timing when he wakes just before eleven o’clock and finds her on his doorstep, her jean pockets stirring with freckled fingers. </p>
<p>It’s warmer than it has been. Spring is drawing closer. Max’s blouse is sleeveless, and probably the girliest thing Mike has ever seen her wear; white and covered in eyelet lace flowers.</p>
<p>“Shut up,” are her first words for him. She is scowling. “My mum is making me wear it.”</p>
<p>Mike surrenders, shows her his raised palms. “I didn’t say anything.”</p>
<p>She narrows her eyes at him, crosses her arms. “Your face did.”</p>
<p>“You can’t blame me for being surprised!”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but there’s been a recent death in my family so I have to be nice to my mum and you have to be nice to me,” Max tells him, as she takes him by the hand and pulls him from the doorway. She walked out of a hairdresser last week with her hair cut an inch or so shorter, but it is still so long, and when she moves it bounces around her in vibrant waves. </p>
<p>
  <span>He watches the trickle of light over it as they leave the house. Mike releases her hand at the gate and asks, “Where’s Dustin? I thought he was coming with you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He decided to start climbing that godforsaken hill without us,” Max explains. “I think he’s going to try to talk to Suzie before he calls for El and Will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I still don’t see why we don’t just use the phones at home,” Mike grouses, at the thought of the long green walk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because Dustin offered and was very excited, and we’re not complete monsters,” Max reminds him. “I think that you should take advantage of the opportunity to exercise. You’re looking awfully scrawny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coming from you?” Mike asks, plucking at one of her scarlet strands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s a step ahead of him on the footpath, in the world, and surrounded by the greenery of his neighbourhood. When she tilts around to glare at him, Mike notices that her eyes are very clear and pale in the sunshine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>These looks are so familiar that now he reads them like fondness. He grins at her, and something in his expression makes her laugh as she turns back around. Nothing is that funny, but Mike is laughing too. He is glad for the morning, and glad to be with her. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title from Thurs 6-25 by Sales because they didn't get it right the first time and this is the flipside!</p>
<p>Between the inconsistent characterisation and the stupidity of the Byers moving away, I personally wasn't a fan of ST3 and I'm surprised that I'm writing something that acknowledges it happened. But I really liked the idea of Mike and Max finding solace in each other after the events of that summer and nearly 9k words later, here we are. </p>
<p>I would also like to say that I find their frenemies dynamic hilarious but I think it would be even better if under the surface they were close friends. </p>
<p>This is longer than anything I've posted before and a lot more gushy and unwithheld. I feel nervous about posting it because it’s not as controlled as other things I have written but I can’t draft it again. Hopefully it is still enjoyable! </p>
<p>Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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